(navigation image)
Home American Libraries | Canadian Libraries | Universal Library | Community Texts | Project Gutenberg | Biodiversity Heritage Library | Children's Library | Advanced Microdevices Manuals | Linear Circuits Manuals | Supertex Manuals | Sundry Manuals | Echelon Manuals | RCA Manuals | National Semiconductor Manuals | Hewlett Packard Manuals | Signetics Manuals | Fluke Manuals | Datel Manuals | Intersil Manuals | Zilog Manuals | Maxim Manuals | Dallas Semiconductor Manuals | Temperature Manuals | SGS Manuals | Quantum Electronics Manuals | STDBus Manuals | Texas Instruments Manuals | IBM Microsoft Manuals | Grammar Analysis | Harris Manuals | Arrow Manuals | Monolithic Memories Manuals | Intel Manuals | Fault Tolerance Manuals | Johns Hopkins University Commencement | PHOIBLE Online | International Rectifier Manuals | Rectifiers scrs Triacs Manuals | Standard Microsystems Manuals | Additional Collections | Control PID Fuzzy Logic Manuals | Densitron Manuals | Philips Manuals | The Andhra Pradesh Legislative Assembly Debates | Linear Technologies Manuals | Cermetek Manuals | Miscellaneous Manuals | Hitachi Manuals | The Video Box | Communication Manuals | Scenix Manuals | Motorola Manuals | Agilent Manuals
Search: Advanced Search
Anonymous User (login or join us)
Upload
See other formats

Full text of "To The Lighthouse"

THE   LIGHTHOUSE

down, leaf upon leaf, fold upon fold softly
incessantly upon his brain; among scents, sounds;
voices, harsh, hollow, sweet; and lights passing,
and brooms tapping; and the wash and hush of
the sea, how a man had marched up and down and
stopped dead, upright, over them. Meanwhile,
he noticed, Cam dabbled her fingers in the water,
and stared at the shore and said nothing. No,
she won't give way, he thought; she's different,
he thought. Well, if Cam would not answer him,
he would not bother her, Mr. Ramsay decided,
feeling in his pocket for a book. But she would
answer him; she wished, passionately, to move
some obstacle that lay upon her tongue and to say,
Oh yes, Frisk. I'll call him Frisk. She wanted
even to say, Was that the dog that found its way
over the moor alone? But try as she might, she
could think of nothing to say like that, fierce
and loyal to the compact, yet passing on to her
father, unsuspected by James3 a private token
of the love she felt for him. For she thought,
dabbling her hand (and now Macalister's boy
had caught a mackerel, and it lay kicking on the
floor, with blood on its gills) for she thought,
looking at James who kept his eyes dispassionately
on the sail, or glanced now and then for a second
at the horizon, you're not exposed to it, to this
pressure and division of feeling, this extra-

261